


Sad On The Sofa

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Accents, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Voice Kink, puppet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OC/reader had one of those days. Tom cheers her up. Cue fluffy silliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad On The Sofa

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few swear words towards the end. Partially inspired by a clip I saw of Tom in Archipelago involving a glove puppet. Enjoy :)

I was absolutely, effing emotional. Tired, fed up, simmering with London public transport rage.

I barely managed to scrape the key into the front door, and shuffled into our hallway, dumping my bag on the wooden floors with a loud thunk.

"Tom, you home?" I called out rather pathetically, almost lacking the energy to even speak.

Silence.

Oh well.

I thought scarfing some Cadbury’s animal biscuits might comfort me somewhat, but they just made me feel a bit queasy.

Defeated, I lope out of the kitchen and collapse face-down on the careworn leather sofa, sniffing slightly.

________________

"Hello?" I woke up, bleary eyed, to a soft voice at my side.

Ouch. My neck ached from sleeping in a wonky position. I opened my eyes and was surprised to see it was dark - I must have been asleep for at least three hours if not more. Hmmm, Tom should be home by now.

I shifted my head to look in the direction of the voice. My view was clear - all I could see was our coffee table, and the fireplace beyond it. A soft amber glow from the street lamp outside poured through the large window, but its light didn’t reveal anyone in the room with me.

I sleepily huffed a little and let my eyes close again, sinking back into the sofa on my side.

I felt something soft and furry nuzzle at my hand, making my eyes spring open in surprise.

I look down to see a glove puppet raccoon nudging its head across my fingers.

I carefully lean over, inching my way so I can see over the edge of the sofa, and I catch a glimpse of Tom’s long denim-clad legs sprawled out on the floor . I grin.

"Hello, you," I pet the raccoon’s head.

"Oh! You’re awake," The raccoon (well, Tom) exclaims quietly, in what sounds like an Australian accent.

"How long have you been there for?" I try to stifle a yawn, and fail.

"Not too long, mate," the glove puppet moves up along the edge of the sofa, towards my face. “Long enough to take a good look at you though, darlin. You look utterly knackered"

I laugh. This is Tom’s ‘Chris Hemsworth’ voice.

"What ‘appened? You look loike you’ve been walkin through the Bush for a week."

I sigh and briefly close my eyes.

"Had a long and frustrating day," I bring my hands up and tuck them under my chin.

The room is silent for a moment. Then I can start to make out Tom’s breathing, and hear him shift a bit on the floor.

"Please tell me," Tom’s voice almost slips from Aussie into his own voice, sounding concerned.

I sigh a little.

"It’s just been one of those days," I begin, curling my body up into a ball.

"Delayed buses, people shuvving me on the tube, my boss hasn’t paid my invoice on time so I have to eat noodles for the rest of the week… I’m just not feeling quite my chirpy self."

"I ‘naa the feelin," the raccoon rests its head on the sofa cushion near my face. “Today I had a foight with a fox over some chicken raaand the back of KFC."

I giggle and stroke the puppet’s head thoughtfully.

"Needless to say, oi lost, and now i’m staarvin mate,"

"Oh dear," I chuckle.

“‘Ere, let me hold your fingah.” The puppet moves and squeezes its paws round my index finger. I can feel Tom’s thumb and finger through the soft fabric.

"I’m gonna introduce you to my mate, Steve. He always knaa’s what ta say."

"Okay…?" I furrow my brow a little. Who’s Steve?

Tom pulls the glove puppet out of my sight, and i hear him rustling.

Then the raccon’s head pops up again, this time wearing an oversized eyepatch.

I s _nort_ with laughter.

"Well now, missy," Tom sounds positively _Geoffrey Rush_ , “What’s this I hear about a baaaad day? What landlubber got yer goat?”

"Ha," I squeak, “the people of this fair city, mister pirate. Or should I call you Steve?"

"That’ll be Cap’n Steve to you," Tom makes the puppet bow its head.

"Well it’s very nice to meet you, Sir," I smile.

"There will be none of that ‘Sir’ shenanigans here, you saucy wench,"

I _cackle_.

"However oi like yer pretty face so I be offering you to join me crew."

Tom clears his throat, and I lean my arm over the side of the sofa to poke him in the side. He yelps.

"As I was sayin’, me lassie," the raccoon continues, “I have a vessel, the most beautiful ship in all of Londonia, docked by Vauxhall bridge. We set sail at dawn. No need to bring any munitions me lovely, I have aaaall we need, arrr."

"And what will we be doing, exactly?" I tickle Tom’s shirt-clad side and titter as he involuntarily jerks against the sofa.

"Raise the flag, set the sails, and storm the city. Then we’ll take a break for lunch, because a hungry pirate is a shadow of hisself to be sure."

“ _Darling… please…_ ,” Tom muffles and I stop tickling him, giving him a little pat instead.

"Ahem. As oi was sayin, aaafter we’ve finished the rum and sandwiches, we’ll take to land, and will commandeer the tube turnstiles, looting their oystercards."

My laughter rings through the quiet living room, and I hear Tom giggling softly.

"That sounds like a fricking _awesome_ plan.”

"And then…," Tom is clearly getting carried away now, “we’ll round up aaall the pushy commuters and make them walk the plank. I’ve already got the shaaaarks lined up, I’ll be putting them in the Thames tonight, so you just relax there my pretty and let Cap’n Steve take care of ye."

Tom reaches up his other hand and holds a blue soft toy shark we picked up from the London Aquarium. I smile at his familiar long fingers which grip the toy.

Then Tom drops both his hands, all toys gone.

"Well," I say to myself, knowing Tom can hear me. “That’s that then. Tom is going to be rather upset though with me running off to join a pirate crew."

"No he’s naht," oh dear god, is he now doing Owen Wilson?

"Who the heck are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?!" I call out theatrically into the dark.

"It’s okaay, it’s okaay.  Seriously, relax. What is it with you Brits, you’re so fucking uptight"

I snort with laughter.

"All you need to do, is close your eyes,  and imagine you’re in like the gnarliest surf. And - you’re totally stoked right now."

I raise an eyebrow. There’s a pause.

"Your eyes are, like, closed, right?"

I mumble and close my eyes.

"Yes. But …,"

"No buts, baby girl," Tom’s mouth is at my ear, still with that American drawl.

"My buddy Captain Steve told me you had a fucked up day. That’s so. not. cool."

I feel Tom wrap a warm arm around me.

"You deserve sweetness," he kisses my cheek, “and those fancy fellas who stand when you, you know, like enter the room and throw their jackets over puddles for you, and all that stuff in the old movies?"

I smirk, and he kisses the corner of my mouth.

"Fucking sucks man about that invoice. Do you want me to go like full Terminator on his ass?"

We chuckle together.

"Hey, I’ll cook for you." He kisses me. “I’ve got this gigantic six grill barbeque, you can roast anything on that thing, it’s insane. I’m gonna make you the goddamn best cheese sandwich you’ve ever had in your whole life, it’s gonna be sweet."

I almost open my eyes. I really wanna look at Tom.

"Hmmm," he muses at my ear. “Hey, you know, the tube should just be outlawed or somethin’. Why can’t everyone just ride a horse to work? Works for me."

"You don’t ride a horse to work," I laugh.

"You expect Owen Wilson to drive or use public transportation?" He feigns indignance. “My gahd little missy, you’ve been livin’ in the big smoke way too long.

What you really need, is a big ol’ private jet. Do you have enough space here for a helipad, or is that just a Hollywood thing?”

I laugh as Tom kisses me fully on the mouth. I open my eyes and am met with his beautiful smiling gaze.

"Hello," he says in his own voice.

"Hello, you," I whisper back.

He trails a fingertip along my cheek. “Seriously, don’t worry, I’ll feed you,” he says gently. He squeezes me. “No noodles for you, promise.”

"Just baked potatoes," I smirk.

"Exactly," he smiles warmly.

"Looks like you’ve got your sparkle back in your eyes."

"Thank you," I pull him in close.

"Anytime," he murmurs, stroking the tip of his nose along mine, and gives me a wink.


End file.
